


there came a tapping

by erre



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Banter, Canon Compliant, Dark, First Kiss, Fluff, Ghosts, Handholding, Happy Halloween, Haunting, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Magical Kissing, Multi, Paranormal, Possession, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Body, Teasing, WARNING for slight non-con elements related to ghost possession, just lots of kissing, temporary ot3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27266329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erre/pseuds/erre
Summary: Soonyoung starts acting strange, and then the strange takes a liking to Wonwoo.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi
Comments: 26
Kudos: 76





	there came a tapping

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE HEED THE TAGS. This fic involves ghost/spirit possession and the creepy implications that come with it.

The first time something happens, Wonwoo doesn't see it happen himself. He only knows what occurs before and after.

The before begins at 8:00 on a Tuesday morning. Wonwoo trudges into the kitchen and opens the cabinet to grab his mug, only to find it missing. He heads back to his room, fumbles around for his glasses, and trudges back out to take another look. He confirms that his mug is still missing.

At this point Mingyu wanders in.

“Have you seen my mug?” Wonwoo asks.

Mingyu pauses rather suspiciously. “No? Maybe it’s in the dishwasher.”

“I never put it in the dishwasher.” Wonwoo is now 90% sure his mug is in Mingyu’s room, so he accepts Mingyu’s helpless shrug and heads to the bathroom to wash up.

The next thing Wonwoo knows, Mingyu is knocking insistently on the door. (There are three bathrooms in their new six-person dorm, but this is the one Mingyu and Wonwoo usually use.) Wonwoo unlocks it.

Mingyu nearly trips inside, his T-shirt stained down the front with brown liquid. He pulls it off and throws the shirt in the hamper. The liquid had even spilled onto his sleep pants.

“What happened?”

“Karma,” Mingyu mutters darkly. “Sorry, are you done? I need to shower.”

Wonwoo sets down his facewash. “Don’t take too long,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Ten minutes,” Mingyu calls back, and shuts the door in his face.

Rarely do things catch Wonwoo off guard, but something makes him freeze when he returns to the kitchen and finds Soonyoung leaning against the sink. It’s not too unusual that he’s up so early and nothing is out of place — they live together, after all. Only Soonyoung seems like he had been expecting him, his legs crossed casually at the ankles.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says, as he normally would. “You’re early.”

“Hey.” Soonyoung smiles and holds up Wonwoo’s mug. It’s wet, recently washed. “Looking for this?”

Against all odds, Wonwoo’s blood runs cold.

If someone asks Wonwoo to pin down what exactly feels wrong, he wouldn’t be able to. He might say, imagine a painting hanging in the wall of your house. You see this painting every day, until one day, you start thinking it’s slightly crooked. You ask your friends to take a look, you measure the angles; but nothing proves it isn’t hanging straight. You start thinking you’re the only one in the world who sees it as it really is.

Only Wonwoo isn’t imagining it. He knows Soonyoung too well for that.

In front of the others, Soonyoung’s just himself as usual. He laughs too hard, warms up slow, asks the makeup artists curious questions about the products they use. Drapes his arms over open shoulders, snags the last konjac jelly on set. Never misses a beat.

The strange things keep happening.

On Thursday, they’re in the dressing room at Music Bank. Wonwoo is released from the makeup chair and tries to find a seat, but the room is covered with various objects, most of them sleeping boys.

Soonyoung is playing on his phone between Seungkwan and a pile of coats, and Wonwoo makes note of this as he perches on the opposite arm of the same couch. Ever since the mug incident, he’s felt on edge near Soonyoung.

(During rehearsal earlier, Jeonghan had quietly asked whether they’d fought. Wonwoo answered honestly: _No._

He had ignored the sensation of Soonyoung’s eyes on him, raising the fine hairs on his neck.)

As Wonwoo scrolls on his phone, his butt starting to ache from the wooden arm of the couch, he notices Soonyoung whisper something into Seungkwan’s ear. Whatever he says gets Seungkwan up and out of the room.

After a moment, Wonwoo feels Soonyoung watching him again. There’s nothing curious about his stare — just unsettling. Wonwoo grits his teeth against it.

“Hey,” Soonyoung says, as he normally would. “Sit here.” He pats the empty spot beside him.

Wonwoo turns slowly. He studies the slight crookedness of Soonyoung’s smile, the slight emptiness of his eyes. “I’m fine here,” Wonwoo replies.

“Being stubborn won’t help you.” Soonyoung cups a hand around his mouth, hiding what he says from the mirrors: “I know your butt hurts.”

Wonwoo will play along. Behind a hand, he tells him, “Mind your own butt.”

The smile grows wider, the eyes glint. And then, like he had been fed today, Soonyoung leans back and closes his eyes. “Suit yourself.”

When Seungkwan re-enters the dressing room, his coat is hanging off his shoulders and he looks disappointed. “I couldn’t find him,” he says, making his way to Soonyoung. “Did he tell you where he was going?”

But Soonyoung is apparently fast asleep.

He takes a shine to Wonwoo’s mug, and not just the mug.

Wonwoo starts losing jackets, shirts, and pants that mysteriously turn up days later — sometimes _on_ Soonyoung, sometimes washed and neatly folded on Wonwoo’s bed. Soonyoung doesn’t seem to wear everything, though Wonwoo spots him wearing some of the shirts to sleep. Wonwoo isn’t sure what happens to the clothes that aren’t worn; maybe he just wants Wonwoo to notice they’re gone.

Eventually, Soonyoung finds a new game: scaring Wonwoo. It’s a game he would’ve never initiated before, since Soonyoung knows better than anyone that Wonwoo bites back.

Yet this not-Soonyoung — this **Soonyoung** , as Wonwoo has labelled him in his head — seems to find the possibility thrilling.

Wonwoo strolls into his room one evening and immediately shivers. It’s too dark to see anything, but a flick of the lights proves his instincts right; there, perched on his bed, is **Soonyoung**.

“Boo!” He gets no reaction.

Wonwoo remains standing by the door, fighting the urge to press his back against the wall. “How long have you been sitting in here?”

 **Soonyoung** rests his hands on Wonwoo’s sheets. “A while.” Instead of getting up and leaving, he merely stretches out his legs. “Did you know you take exactly fifteen minutes to shower?”

“Yes, actually.” Wonwoo has developed a very reliable shower regimen.

 **Soonyoung** finally rises to his feet, though Wonwoo’s relief dissipates as he comes closer and closer, stopping centimeters away. “Not much room for fun, huh?” he murmurs.

A variety of emotions threaten to show on Wonwoo’s face. **Soonyoung** watches him carefully, and because he’s watching, Wonwoo takes care not to slip. His voice is dead even when he responds, “Says the guy who used to shower in five minutes.”

 **Soonyoung** scrunches his nose. He pats Wonwoo on the shoulder on his way out. “You better watch out.”

Wonwoo locks the door and leans against it. For a second, his touch had been familiar, and that scares Wonwoo more than anything.

Later that night, **Soonyoung** showers for exactly fifteen minutes.

Wonwoo discovers his facewash is missing the very next morning.

“Has Soonyoung said anything to you recently?” Minghao asks Jisoo and Wonwoo.

The three of them had been called to the studio to re-record some parts on the next album and decided to assemble for lunch in a conference room. They’d ordered something to be sent up to Jihoon too — a small thank you for his endless labor.

Jisoo breaks apart his chopsticks. “Like what?”

“Like whether he’s been stressed.”

“Not really.” There’s a beat of silence before Jisoo speaks again. “Why?”

Minghao stirs his noodles. “This sounds weird,” he says, “but lately it feels like he’s… acting.”

Wonwoo leans forward. “Acting how?” he asks. Perhaps a bit too intensely, because it makes Minghao and Jisoo both look up from their food.

“Just off. Like he’s pretending to be...”

“To be him?” Wonwoo offers. Minghao’s expression darkens, though he seems more concerned than scared.

“Maybe he’s just tired,” Jisoo suggests lightly. “I mean, I could talk to him?”

 _Talking won’t help_ , Wonwoo wants to argue, but Minghao is already nodding.

“Yeah, I think he’ll listen to you.”

“He’d better,” Jisoo jokes.

The conversation moves on. Wonwoo contributes little and manages to eat only half of his food, the dread sitting heavy in his stomach.

Two weeks pass, no end in sight.

Wonwoo has never purposely avoided Soonyoung for such an extended period of time. He misses bothering him about mundane things like what to eat for dinner, binging dramas together over a bag of rice crackers, teasing Soonyoung for laughs.

He keeps thinking about the juxtaposition between the warmth of **Soonyoung** ’s hand on his shoulder that day and the ominous prickle Wonwoo feels in his presence. It’s as if Wonwoo’s mind senses danger, but his body hasn’t learned it.

They are nearing the end of a fansign in Sinchon and **Soonyoung** is standing up front, shooting a barrage of farewell hearts at the fans. All it takes is a stray plushie on the ground to trip him and Wonwoo is there, grabbing him by the elbow before he can tumble off the edge of the makeshift stage.

“Careful,” Wonwoo mutters, tugging him back to safety. This might not be Soonyoung completely, but he still looks like him.

They make eye contact for the first time that day. “I wasn’t gonna fall,” **Soonyoung** retorts.

Wonwoo quickly lets him go. One of the staff gestures at them to get a move on, so he waves and heads off stage. “You would’ve fallen off if I hadn’t caught you.”

The second they’re out of sight, **Soonyoung** grabs his wrist. The alarm wars with the warmth, and then both fade into the background as **Soonyoung** ’s grip tightens. 

“I guess I should thank you,” he says.

Briefly, Wonwoo wonders what **Soonyoung** wants him to do next: push or pull. And then he instantly dismisses that thought, because he shouldn’t care what **Soonyoung** wants.

Before Wonwoo can formulate his reply, they’re shepherded out to their next schedule.

Wonwoo starts conducting research. Paranormal forums suggest the strange behavior might be caused by excess negative energy, or a haunting, or possession. He publishes his own anonymous post and gets several replies ranging from bizarre to unhelpful.

 _Sounds like a possession_ , one user says. _I can recommend a good shaman._

As he types his reply, a prickle at the edge of his senses lets him know he has a visitor. Wonwoo smoothly switches tabs on his phone.

“What do you want?”

 **Soonyoung** slinks into Wonwoo’s room and shuts the door behind him. “Wow, how did you know I was here?” It doesn’t sound like a genuine question, but rather an imitation of something Soonyoung might ask. Wonwoo’s gradually starting to discern that there’s a difference between the Soonyoung act and **Soonyoung** himself — whoever or whatever he is.

 **Soonyoung** gets comfortable in Wonwoo’s desk chair and rests his cheek in one palm. He’s wearing another stolen T-shirt, a birthday gift from Wonwoo’s parents. “What are you doing?”

“Reading.” Wonwoo gets up from his bed and cracks the door open again. The air immediately feels lighter. **Soonyoung** scoffs.

“What, are you afraid I’ll jump you?”

“Yes,” Wonwoo says.

 **Soonyoung** gives him a considering look, then laughs. “You’re pretty funny.” He spins slowly in the chair. “Are you always this suspicious of your friends?”

This question seems more genuine.

Maybe being honest is the key, so Wonwoo replies, “I’m suspicious of you.”

 **Soonyoung** stops spinning. He tilts his head backwards to stare at Wonwoo upside-down. “Why? You know me.”

“No.” Wonwoo studies the face in front of him carefully. “I know Soonyoung.”

The ever-present glimmer of mischief dims a little. “How well do you know him?”

“Pretty well.” Wonwoo remains still as Soonyoung stands and faces him. Most of the others are in their rooms this late at night, though he can hear faint music trickling down the hall from someone’s open door. It’s a reminder that Wonwoo isn’t alone here, though he might as well be.

“I know a lot about him,” **Soonyoung** says, rubbing his thumb over the imprint of the doorknob hitting the wall. He’d gotten closer without Wonwoo realizing. “I know a lot about you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” **Soonyoung** flicks the dust off his thumb. “There’s a lot of you in here.”

Wonwoo frowns slightly. This is new. “In where?”

 **Soonyoung** taps his temple.

So Soonyoung _is_ in there somewhere. Wonwoo takes a threatening step forward. “Let him go.”

 **Soonyoung** only grins. He mirrors Wonwoo’s step forward until they’re standing toe-to-toe. Up close, his irises are blown wide and black. “Do you want to know what he thinks about you?”

Wonwoo’s fists clench at his sides. “I want you to get out.”

“He’s thinking about you right now,” **Soonyoung** murmurs. “He wants to do this.”

A hand twists into Wonwoo’s hair, yanking down — and then **Soonyoung** is kissing him. 

Wonwoo shudders because for a second it feels like Soonyoung entirely, warm and soft. When Wonwoo finally manages to snap out of his shock, he shoves him away, and **Soonyoung** stumbles gracelessly into the desk, sending a pair of headphones clattering onto the floor.

He looks, for some reason, confused. “How did you…” He groans, clutching his head like he’s in pain.

Wonwoo feels shaken, over-alert, and tingly all over, but he doesn’t miss the flicker in the atmosphere, akin to something powering down. “Soonyoung? Is that you?”

Soonyoung — the real Soonyoung — groans in response and Wonwoo guides him sit down on the bed, rubbing his back. “Breathe,” Wonwoo tells him, and himself.

There’s a knock on the door, following by Mingyu peeking in. “Hey, I heard a noise.” He spots Soonyoung and frowns. “Is he okay?”

“He’s…” The words die in Wonwoo’s throat.

“Totally fine,” **Soonyoung** sighs, rolling his shoulders. He rubs at an arbitrary spot on his forehead. “Hit my head on the desk.”

Mingyu waves dismissively and heads back where he came. “Next time you hit a desk, don’t use your head.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” **Soonyoung** calls after him. Once Mingyu is out of earshot, his good humor fades. “Well. That was interesting.”

Wonwoo lets him get up and leave. “That was him, wasn’t it?”

 **Soonyoung** pauses at the door. He flicks the lights off, plunging the room into darkness. “Good night, Wonwoo.”

The next day, **Soonyoung** keeps his distance, but wears one of Wonwoo’s hats to dance practice.

Wonwoo wonders whether he had simply forgotten that he stole it, having stolen so many of Wonwoo’s things, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. They spend the better part of the morning running through new choreo for their new title track and now and then Wonwoo senses the familiar prickle of **Soonyoung** observing him with interest. 

When they break for five minutes, Jeonghan hands Wonwoo a bottle of water.

“Did you guys talk things out?” he asks, settling down on the floor beside him.

Wonwoo downs a third of the bottle before he responds. “Talk about what with who?”

Jeonghan points his chin at **Soonyoung** across the room, running through lines. “About whatever you were fighting about.”

Wonwoo carefully caps his water and sets it down. “We weren’t fighting,” he says. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I’m not worried,” Jeonghan assures him. “You know I just get nosy sometimes.” His tone is deceptively light, but Wonwoo appreciates it; Jeonghan has a way of making other people feel like good liars.

Goosebumps erupt on Wonwoo’s bare arms, a sign that **Soonyoung** is looking at him again. The sensation only lasts a minute though, and Wonwoo glances up to confirm that **Soonyoung** is no longer where he was. He’s by the exit, giving the choreographers a signal that he’s stepping outside.

Wonwoo shoots a, “Be right back,” in Jeonghan’s direction and follows after him.

The halls are empty. “Hey,” Wonwoo calls after him, his voice echoing against the high ceilings.

 **Soonyoung** speeds up and rounds the corner. He’s fast; there’s no sign of him by the time Wonwoo catches up, but he spots one of the practice rooms door swinging shut, and inside, he finds **Soonyoung** waiting for him.

Wonwoo pulls the door shut.

He prefaces by saying, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Not at all concerned, **Soonyoung** tilts his head, half his face in shadow under the hat.

Wonwoo steps closer. “All you have to do is let him go.”

 **Soonyoung** ’s mouth curls up. “Make me.”

Frustration makes Wonwoo take another step closer, and he takes a moment breathe. **Soonyoung** very obviously finds his struggle amusing.

“Let him go,” Wonwoo tries again, “or I’ll call a shaman.”

“Oh no, a _shaman_ ,” **Soonyoung** gasps, before rolling his eyes. “Have fun getting scammed.” He holds his hands behind his back and leans forward. “We both know there’s an easier way.”

“No.”

 **Soonyoung** straightens. “Ah. Is your conscience stopping you?” He tsks. “I told you, you don’t have to worry about him.”

“Of course I'm worried about him.”

In the reflection of the mirrors, Wonwoo sees **Soonyoung** ’s finger tap, tap, tap his wrist behind his back. “He won’t mind. Not if it’s you.”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows pinch together. “Well, I’ve… never heard that from him.”

With a pained noise, **Soonyoung** suddenly clutches his head and drops to his knees. Wonwoo almost jumps. “Help,” he chokes out, “Please help—”

“Soonyoung?” Wonwoo grasps his shoulders, but the moment he realizes he’s been duped, **Soonyoung** is already cackling. He points at Wonwoo.

“Should’ve… seen… yourself!”

His laughter bounces maniacally off the walls and even when his face turns red he just won’t stop. Worry compounds with anger and hopelessness and Wonwoo cups his face.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, in case Soonyoung is listening, and kisses him.

It’s soft considering the circumstances, but if Wonwoo could choose to kiss Soonyoung (hypothetically of course) it would be this way, without fear or uncertainty, his fingers tracing Soonyoung’s ear as he presses back. When they part, there’s a collective breath and a small wet sound that makes Wonwoo’s hair stand on end for another reason.

Soonyoung inhales deeply and grasps at Wonwoo’s hand. “Whoa.”

“Hey.” Wonwoo’s lips feel numb. “Are you o—”

Before he can finish Soonyoung reels him in again by the front of his shirt, and when their lips meet this time Wonwoo makes a surprised noise at the back of his throat. It’s not the strangest nor most uncomfortable thing they’ve done — far from it actually — and Wonwoo wonders distantly how any ghost can find room inside Soonyoung’s body when there is already so _much_ of him.

They topple over, catching their breaths during a second of reprieve. Wonwoo braces himself to make sure he doesn’t crush Soonyoung and can’t help but grin down at him. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“I was just, you know, worried he might come back.” Soonyoung’s gaze flicks over the narrow space between their bodies, Wonwoo’s hands braced on either side of him, landing with finality on Wonwoo’s mouth.

Feeling bold, Wonwoo leans closer. “Or maybe he already has?”

Soonyoung nudges the leg pressed over his. “I know you can tell. I saw everything, when he was…”

“Inside you?”

Soonyoung bumps him again and Wonwoo lets himself flop onto Soonyoung, tucking his chin into the warm crook of Soonyoung’s neck. Soonyoung lets out an _oof_.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo tells him quietly. “It was actually pretty scary.”

There’s a gentle touch at Wonwoo’s waist. “Yeah. Thanks for… you know.”

“You’re welcome,” Wonwoo snickers, pushing himself up, just in time to see Soonyoung abruptly seize, limbs locking up, and then fall very, very still.

The next time he blinks, he’s gone.

“Aw,” **Soonyoung** says, his signature wrongness blaring its alarm in Wonwoo’s head. “How sweet.”

Wonwoo scrambles away and back on his feet. Upon quick estimation, he figures it’ll take about three strides to reach the door.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” **Soonyoung** dusts off his clothes, bends down to fetch Wonwoo’s hat where it had fallen off at some point. “Good try though.” He taps his bottom lip. “He definitely liked that.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. He can still feel Soonyoung’s warmth lingering on him. _How are you still here? Why are you doing this? Why Soonyoung?_ But only the first syllable of a slew of questions makes it out. “Why?”

 **Soonyoung** strolls past him and opens the door first. Light from the hallway casts his figure in shadow as he shrugs. “Why not?”

**Soonyoung** spends the night in Seokmin’s room to avoid Wonwoo, presumably until he feels like torturing him again.

The whole group records an interview in preparation for the comeback. Wonwoo, not having slept very much, spends the first hour imagining what it must be like to sit in the backseat and watch someone else drive your body around, and whether Soonyoung is more often angry or bored in there.

He’s so distracted that when Jihoon mutters a stupid pun under his breath in response to the MC’s joke, Wonwoo laughs and immediately turns to Soonyoung to tell him about it. With a curious smile **Soonyoung** leans in as if to listen, operating on Soonyoung Autopilot.

They both snap out of it at the same time. **Soonyoung** smoothly volunteers to answer another question. Wonwoo coughs into his fist.

Wonwoo imagines what it’s like to see your best friend laugh with your imposter. He imagines watching Soonyoung laugh with a **Wonwoo**.

The guilt keeps him focused for the rest of the day.

Wonwoo is trying find his way to the bathroom on the set of a remote photoshoot when Minghao catches up to him.

“The staff said there’s one in that building over there,” he says, pointing to what looks like an office on the far side of the railroad yard.

Wonwoo nods and they walk in that direction, carefully sidestepping gravel in their fancy dress shoes.

“You know,” Minghao begins, “Soonyoung said something funny the other day.” That gets Wonwoo’s attention. “He said you guys had a fight.”

“What?” Wonwoo says incredulously.

“I thought it was weird because you didn’t mention anything when we were with Shua-hyung last week.” Minghao studies Wonwoo. “It’s weird… right?”

The ball is in his court. Wonwoo could confirm Minghao’s suspicions, tell him Soonyoung’s been possessed by a ghost, and then prove it by —

Minghao calls his name. He’s been holding the door open for Wonwoo, who apologizes. “We didn’t fight,” he clarifies. “I’ll… I’ll talk to him.”

Minghao nods slowly. “Shua never did say how the talk went.”

“I’m sure Soonyoung listened to him,” Wonwoo says, and Minghao smiles.

The trouble is the other one.

Way past midnight, **Soonyoung** slips into Wonwoo and Mingyu’s shared bathroom instead of his own to shower, and Wonwoo sits up in bed.

The doorknob is unlocked when he tries it.

“What will make you leave?” Wonwoo asks, just loud enough to be heard over the hiss of the running water.

 **Soonyoung** rolls his eyes. “This again?” Leisurely, he continues unbuttoning his shirt. “How about you offer me something in return and I’ll consider it? That could be fun.”

“Why do you keep messing with me when you know I can kick you out of him?” Wonwoo challenges instead. He folds his arms, mostly to hide the tell-tale twitching of his hands. “Be honest — you like me, don’t you?”

 **Soonyoung** stares into the running water. Steam swirls around him. Wonwoo expects it to twist in creepy ways or reveal his true form, but none of that happens. He’s not sure if that’s comforting or disturbing.

“So why haven’t you told anyone else about me?” **Soonyoung** asks accusingly. “Isn’t it because you don’t want them to get involved? Be honest.”

Wonwoo swallows. “Don’t avoid the question.”

 **Soonyoung** shucks his shirt and Wonwoo looks away even though it’s far from a novel sight for any of them. “We can keep playing this game.” **Soonyoung** moves on to his jeans. “But if you aren’t going to do anything, I’m gonna go shower now.”

When Wonwoo doesn’t move, **Soonyoung** points inside the stall. “Or do you want to join me?”

“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo says, ignoring the invitation. “I know you can hear me. I’m going to get you out of there, okay?” **Soonyoung** listens, utterly expressionless. Wonwoo lets the words sink in for a moment before turning to leave.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Wonwoo reminds **Soonyoung**.

The door swings shut on a hollow smile.

“I’ve thought about it,” **Soonyoung** says without preamble, joining Wonwoo by the makeshift coffee station at yet another interview taping. “About what you can give me if you want me to leave.”

Wonwoo glances around — most of the other members are off doing something else. It’s been a while since **Soonyoung** has approached him willingly. He humors him, though he doesn’t expect a serious answer: “What can I possibly give you?”

“Lots of things. But one thing in particular.” He reaches for an instant coffee package (which Soonyoung hates), but ends up grabbing some butter cookies instead (which Soonyoung likes). It’s as if being in Soonyoung’s body has made him comform to his tastes over time. “I want a name.”

His answer registers in Wonwoo’s mind. “…A name?”

“Mm.”

Wonwoo sets down his lukewarm coffee. “What else?”

 **Soonyoung** proceeds to crush the cookies to crumbs inside the packaging, which is definitely not to Soonyoung’s tastes, then pours the crumbs into his mouth while Wonwoo watches, dumbfounded.

When he’s done chewing, he brushes the crumbs off his lips, neglecting the cookie dust all over his shirt. “Just a name,” **Soonyoung** says, “but don’t tempt me.”

Wonwoo narrows his eyes. It’s been over a month since the possession started; this seems too easy. “If I give you a name, you’ll leave Soonyoung alone for good?”

 **Soonyoung** rolls out his neck. Something metal there glints in the sunlight. “Sure. I’ll think about it.”

“No. Either you leave him alone forever or there’s no deal.”

 **Soonyoung** shrugs. “Suit yourself. I’m starting to get comfortable in here.” 

“We’ll see about that.” With a few rough sweeps, Wonwoo brushes the crumbs off **Soonyoung** ’s shirt. If he can’t free Soonyoung, the least Wonwoo can do is preserve his dignity. **Soonyoung** takes the opportunity to lean in.

“How far will you go to shut me up?” he murmurs by Wonwoo’s ear. “Soonyoung would like to know. He’s dying to know, actually.”

Wonwoo tugs at the pendant tucked inside **Soonyoung** ’s shirt. As he’d suspected, it’s the pentagram that Soonyoung had re-gifted to Wonwoo years ago. Neither of them had ever really worn it, but **Soonyoung** must’ve been wearing it for a while because the silver is polished shiny in a way that only a warm body can manage.

“Soonyoung can ask me himself.”

 **Soonyoung** plucks the pendant out of Wonwoo’s palm and tucks it back inside his collar.

“He won’t.” It’s said with a kind of offhand confidence, like he knows Soonyoung better than Soonyoung knows himself. **Soonyoung** brushes past Wonwoo. “And that’s why he needs me.”

_That’s why he needs me._

Never has it occurred to Wonwoo that Soonyoung might’ve invited **Soonyoung** in, or at the very least, doesn’t hate sharing a space. The possibility weighs heavy on Wonwoo while he splits a late night beer with Junhui in the kitchen.

“Hypothetically,” Wonwoo says, while Jun takes another sip, “would you ever agree to let a ghost possess you?”

Jun looks wary. “Don’t tell me you’ve seen something in here—”

“No, just,” Wonwoo grabs the can, “hypothetically.”

Jun settles into a thoughtful silence. “Well, that’s hard. Does the ghost have any special talents? Are they a friendly ghost? Are there any side effects? How long do they want to possess me?”

Wonwoo swallows his mouthful. “Let’s say it’s all to your benefit.”

“Oh, then,” Jun shrugs, “sure, why not? When I’m tired I can go to sleep, let the ghost make money, and then I wake up to spend it.”

Wonwoo rubs the cool side of the beer can, almost empty now. “What if you aren’t asleep? You’re trapped inside your body while the ghost is in charge.”

Jun wrinkles his nose.

“Most people would say no, right?” Wonwoo asks carefully.

Jun shakes the last few drops of beer into his mouth and crumples the can. A clean toss lands it in the recycle bin. Mingyu would have a few choice words if they were in the upstairs dorm, but down here, objects are freely tossed.

“I don’t know,” Jun replies. “What if the ghost can help you get something that you can’t get? Like, you have a test you didn’t study for and the ghost can help you pass it.” He raises a conditional hand. “This is if the ghost is super nice though.”

Ever so slowly the puzzle pieces slot into place and Wonwoo slips off his stool. “I’ve got to go,” he says distractedly.

“Okay…” Jun watches him go. “Don’t invite any ghosts inside you.”

Wonwoo doesn’t promise.

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” **Soonyoung** reprimands when Wonwoo barges into his room. Wonwoo’s out of breath from how fast he leapt up the stairs. He rests his weight against the door to close it.

“I need to talk to Soonyoung,” Wonwoo pants. “Now.”

 **Soonyoung** flops back onto the plushie propped under his head and continues browsing idly on his phone. “I thought you said you can kick me out any time?”

Wonwoo closes his eyes for a moment to recollect himself. “I’m asking nicely.”

“Hm. My mom told me nice people always knock first.”

Wonwoo raps on door the behind him.

After some consideration, **Soonyoung** sits up. He gestures for Wonwoo to come closer.

Wonwoo frowns. “Can’t you just pop out or something?”

 **Soonyoung** looks at him like he’s stupid. “Sure, but what do I get out of that?”

Once he’s standing before him, Wonwoo pauses. “Sorry, Soonyoung. But I need to talk to you—”

 **Soonyoung** yanks Wonwoo down by the collar. “He would really rather you talk less,” he mutters, before kissing him full force. It’s harsh and biting and Wonwoo braces his hands on the mattress as **Soonyoung** falls back on his elbows and drags him along.

Wonwoo can Soonyoung emerge as the kiss smooths into something more languid and cautious, and Wonwoo would shrink back from the heat if only it didn’t feel so thoughtlessly good. Soonyoung’s hand comes up to cup his jaw and his thumb strokes the underside, inducing a sharp exhale.

Wonwoo pulls apart reluctantly and licks his lips without thinking too much about it. Soonyoung swallows in response.

“Did you want to be possessed?”

“No way.” Soonyoung’s eyes widen. “Don’t believe everything he says. Him and I aren’t friends.”

“Okay. Then…” Wonwoo’s gaze flits down to the pentagram lying over Soonyoung’s — Wonwoo’s — sleep shirt. So **Soonyoung** wears it to sleep. It’s a simpler truth to focus on than the one at hand. “Do you,” Wonwoo continues, “do you like me?”

Soonyoung looks away. “Ah,” he says, and nothing more.

“You do,” Wonwoo realizes in the silence.

“Well not, like, all the time,” Soonyoung mumbles.

There’s a pregnant pause.

“But sometimes?” Wonwoo says.

Soonyoung presses his lips together and gives the tiniest of nods.

All the strength leaves Wonwoo at once and he collapses on the bed. When Soonyoung cracks open one eye to see what’s going on, Wonwoo bumps his forehead on Soonyoung’s shoulder, smiling despite himself. “I don’t mind if you do.”

“You should feel so honored,” Soonyoung says, but there’s an obvious undercurrent of relief. His hand bumps into Wonwoo’s over the bed covers and Wonwoo intertwines their fingers.

Soonyoung stares at him incredulously. “How are you so calm about this?”

Wonwoo squeezes his hand, but grows serious. “I’m just glad you’re here, for now.”

Hesitantly, Soonyoung squeezes back. “I don’t know how to keep him out,” he admits in a low voice. “I can sense when he wants to come in, but I can’t stop him.”

Right on time, Soonyoung tenses. “Wow, he’s knocking,” he manages to grit out, before hunching over with a grunt.

 **Soonyoung** straightens with a crack of the spine. “Sorry, I was getting bored.” His attention lands on their entwined hands and then on Wonwoo, when he doesn’t let go. “Hey, it’s me. Aren’t you going to run away screaming?”

“I’ll take you up on the deal,” Wonwoo says, trying to hold onto the remnants of Soonyoung’s warmth in **Soonyoung** ’s hand. “What do you think about Hyuk? ‘Shining’ Hyuk.” He nods at the star pendant. “I would give that to you since you like it so much, but I’m not sure how that works.”

Unexpectedly, **Soonyoung** ’s expression hardens. “Forget it. I don’t want your lame name.” He tugs his hand free and lies down, turning his back to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo is momentarily speechless. “You don’t like Hyuk? I can think of another one.”

“I don’t want a name anymore,” Soonyoung says. “I’ll let you know when I think of something else.”

“…Okay.” Wonwoo rises to his feet. “Sleep well.”

 **Soonyoung** doesn’t bother responding, perhaps aware that that had been intended for someone else.

Wonwoo decides to spend time with Soonyoung in spite of **Soonyoung**.

There’s little **Soonyoung** can do to avoid Wonwoo in public. It feels good to finally let go; Wonwoo sits next to Soonyoung whenever he wants, shares jokes that **Soonyoung** won’t laugh at but Soonyoung certainly will, pokes and prods him to get Soonyoung’s attention.

Oddly, it seems to wear **Soonyoung** down in other ways.

Over time **Soonyoung** seems to diminish, until even the uncomfortable prickling that had always signified **Soonyoung** ’s presence begins to fade.

The two of them are alone at the gym in their apartment complex when Soonyoung wriggles his own fingers in Wonwoo’s face. “Hey.”

Wonwoo gapes. He reaches out and Soonyoung gives him a handshake. “Is he gone?”

“No, he’s...” Soonyoung looks down at his chest. Gingerly, he pulls out the pendant. They exchange glances, before Soonyoung takes it off and drops the necklace into Wonwoo’s open palm.

The metal is unnaturally cold despite Soonyoung’s workout.

“You think he’ll stay inside?”

Soonyoung squints at it. “Maybe we should throw it in the river or something?”

They wait to see if the necklace will oppose, but nothing happens. Although Wonwoo wants **Soonyoung** gone, tossing him in the river feels rather cruel for some reason; he pockets the necklace, which seems to put the question to rest for now.

It’s quiet in the elevator ride up. Wonwoo’s hand brushes the back of Soonyoung’s and Soonyoung lets Wonwoo interlace their fingers. They breathe a collective sigh of relief.

“That was kind of anticlima—” Wonwoo slaps a hand over Soonyoung’s mouth.

“ _Don’t_.”

Soonyoung licks him and chuckles heartily as Wonwoo wipes his spit off on — not Wonwoo’s, but Soonyoung’s — T-shirt. “I was kidding. I’m so glad I’m back.”

“Mm."

Soonyoung lifts their connected hands. “Are you really going to keep holding onto me though?”

“Mm.” Wonwoo follows Soonyoung out the elevator, running his thumb over Soonyoung’s thumb as they go.

Soonyoung sighs as he punches in the code at the door and it unlocks with a melodic beep. “Suit yourself.” Wonwoo has barely taken off his shoes before Soonyoung tugs him down the hallway.

“Is the gym empty?” Mingyu asks when they pass his room. Soonyoung hand jerks in surprise, but Wonwoo holds tight.

Wonwoo answers for them. “Yeah, it’s empty.”

“Cool.” Mingyu rustles like he’s getting out of bed, and Wonwoo is promptly dragged into Soonyoung’s bedroom.

“Why are we sneaking around?” Wonwoo whispers.

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung whispers back. He flicks on the light and steps towards his closet, only to notice he’s still attached to Wonwoo. He gives Wonwoo an exasperated look that makes them both start laughing.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Soonyoung assures him.

“Okay.”

Neither of them lets go. “You know, there’s one thing I’ve wanted to do.”

“What?” Wonwoo asks, though he knows the answer.

Soonyoung pecks him on the cheek, so fast that Wonwoo might’ve missed it if he weren’t paying close attention.

“There.” Soonyoung is a little pink. “We’re even.”

Wonwoo wants to squeeze him. “Not yet,” he says very seriously. When Soonyoung looks up, Wonwoo taps his bottom lip with a finger.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath and holds it.

Wonwoo taps his lip again. “Any day now.” He pauses. “Unless you don’t want—”

Soonyoung cuts him off with his mouth and presses Wonwoo against the wall until all he can feel is Soonyoung’s overbearing heat and his curious hand branding its shape into Wonwoo’s side and searing a path as it travels upwards. Somewhat unhinged, Wonwoo hooks a finger into waistband of Soonyoung’s sweatpants so there’s no more space between them.

Soonyoung makes a breathy noise that makes Wonwoo freeze.

“Sorry,” Soonyoung blurts, “that was…”

Wonwoo grabs a hold of Soonyoung’s other hand and relaxes against the wall. He feels winded, sated, too cold from the sudden lack of Soonyoung. “I don’t mind,” he reminds him, hoping Soonyoung will come close again.

“Okay,” Soonyoung says with a shy smile, and does.

After showering later that night, Wonwoo extracts the pendant from his pocket and holds it up to the bathroom light.

The metal is even colder now and glints unlike any sterling silver Wonwoo has seen before. When he touches the pentagram it sends a small ripple of tingles and goosebumps up Wonwoo’s arm.

“Were you lonely?”

Time passes, slow and silent except for the steady pulse of the shower head dripping onto the tiles. Wonwoo is sure **Soonyoung** is staring back at him in his formless way, waiting.

Something compels Wonwoo to bring the pendant to his lips.

Upon contact the cold flashes hot, cold, and hot again — and then stops. Gradually, it begins to warm to the temperature of Wonwoo’s palm. It’s nothing but a necklace again.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door.

“Are you sleeping in there?” comes Mingyu’s muffled voice.

Wonwoo gives the necklace one last look before tossing it into the trash can. “I’m awake now,” he says, opening the door.

**Author's Note:**

> happy spooky times idk what this is but i had to get it out of my head. loosely based off [this thread](https://twitter.com/erreversible/status/1292868123192963073?s=20). (probably going to come back later to fix typos lol;;)
> 
> stay safe and unpossessed. 
> 
> **@erreversible** on [twitter](https://twitter.com/erreversible?lang=en) | [tumblr](https://erreversible.tumblr.com/) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/erreversible)


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